


good day, sunshine

by troiing



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Fluff without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 02:43:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11049639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troiing/pseuds/troiing
Summary: "Inquisitor, you are smitten."





	good day, sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> So I committed the great sin of writing something like four inquisition fics... Gosh, a year ago... And never posting them.
> 
> Here's some good old-fashioned, run-of-the-mill fluff to weasel my way into whatever's left of the fandom. =P
> 
> Who needs plot when you can have fluff?

Trevelyan woke early, damp with sweat. Not the entirely unpleasant variety that accompanied bad sleep or worse dreams, but the sort one began to expect sharing a bed, sleeping body to body or skin to skin.

Restless, she sat up, jaw tensing as cool air rushed in to replace the warmth of the blankets and Josephine’s body. She drew the blanket towards the other woman’s back, not wanting to disturb her.

Josephine didn’t stir.

Once she had made certain the blanket was tucked in close around the other woman’s shoulders, the Inquisitor slipped out of the bed. A shiver wracked her the moment her feet touched the floor, a quake that started in her shoulders and erupted down her body. She felt tingly. No, not tingly. Sharper. Gritted her teeth to keep them from chattering. She shook the extra blanket folded at the foot of the bed out in a quiet flurry of fabric, settling it around her shoulders as she moved (carefully avoiding a patch of uncarpeted stone) to the fireplace to stoke the fading embers back to a comfortable, crackling fire.

Trevelyan sat back on her heels, watching the flames engulf the dry wood. As the damp sweat dried and the fire’s warm aura spread, her muscles unwound themselves and the impulse to shiver dissipated. The stinging was still there, strongest in her left arm; she realized belatedly that it wasn’t the cold, but the anchor on her palm. Nothing to do for it, then, she thought ruefully as she rolled the knots out of her neck and shoulders. There was a twinge in her lower back from holding all of herself together while parts of her rebelled against the bite of chill, and she massaged at it absently as she stood, glancing toward the bed again. Warm and quiet, still sleeping. Good.

She stayed by the fire until her skin felt warm before making for the doorway to the right of the bed. She’d acquired a couple of chairs for the room’s loft, and there were books and tomes enough to peruse for work and pleasure alike to keep her occupied. Bundling the blanket over her shoulder and hitching her night clothes up with a little irritation, she made her careful way up the ladder.

This was much easier in armor.

Once settled, she wrapped the blanket around herself again to block the tower’s draft. Gingerly touching the banister, she made her way to the center of the room. The fire crackled merrily. Blue-tinged light filtered through the stained glass windows. Josephine slumbered below.

Elbows on the banister, Trevelyan leaned out over the bed a little. Josephine had curled one arm in front of her, palm up; the Inquisitor had noted a remnant of ink smudge on her curled fingers before dragging herself out of bed. Her ambassadorial duties followed her even into bed, it seemed. Trevelyan allowed herself a rueful smile at the thought, watching the sleeping woman below. The details weren’t perfect from up here, but she could imagine the individual curls of hair tucked underneath Josephine’s chin, the long profile of her nose, the slack downturn of her mouth - 

\- the way her brows knit together when she stirred.

Josephine made an odd noise Trevelyan took for a stifled yawn as she twisted in the bed. Finding no other body beside her, the woman levered herself mostly upright and glanced toward the sofa, then the desk, then the crackling fire. “Good morning?” she asked the room at large, voice marked with confusion.

She was accustomed to waking first.

Trevelyan briefly considered remaining silent, but very quickly thought better of the idea. It would have been cruel to startle Josephine, and startle her it would if she were to unexpectedly spot Trevelyan up above. The loft wasn’t exactly an ideal place to spend one’s time, after all--she’d hardly expect anyone to be up there unless they were finishing renovations on the room.

“Up here,” she said after the barest pause, trying to choose a tone that _woudn’t_ startle the other woman.

She jumped anyway, twisting around with her hand clutched over her chest. “Maker’s breath,” she uttered, unwinding slowly as she gazed upward. “What are you doing up there?”

Trevelyan laughed despite herself, quietly, but Josephine’s eyeroll was obvious even from a dozen feet away. “I was just admiring the view.”

“Hm.” Josephine twisted back toward the windows, and her body unfurled as she exhaled slowly, watching the brightening day through colored glass for a moment before craning her neck around to glance at Trevelyan again.

“Come here,” said Trevelyan with a nod toward the ladder.

Josephine furrowed her brows. “You want me to climb a ladder like this?”

“I did it.” Josephine’s noise of vague disapproval prompted a dramatic sigh, then a smirk. “Sorry, my Lady. I’ll be sure to wait until it’s warm enough to sleep in the buff to climb into the loft first thing in the morning again.”

If Trevelyan’s sigh had been dramatic, Josephine’s was more so. But then, she was practiced in all forms of manipulation. “You are too much,” she asserted even as she threw off the blankets.

The Inquisitor offered a hand when Josephine reached the top of the short ladder, and they made their way back to Trevelyan’s perch over the bed.

“How do you stand the cold stone?” the ambassador asked, toeing from foot to foot on the bare balcony floor.

“One grows used to it,” Trevelyan asserted with a shrug and a ghost of a smile, offering half of the blanket to the other woman. They leaned together over the railing, and Josephine tilted her head against Trevelyan’s shoulder.

“Do you know, I have never been up here?” Josephine observed after a moment, frowning down at the fireplace.

“Needs bookshelves. A little library in the loft.”

Taking that idea into account, Josephine sighed and nuzzled in a little closer. “You are right. It would make a lovely view. With the windows open, the view of the mountains from up here… and even without, the windows are as magnificent in craftsmanship as any I have seen. It is a wonder they remained so intact, when so much of the castle around them crumbled.”

Trevelyan made a little noise of approval before shifting, moving the blanket as she pressed up behind Josephine’s body, lowering a kiss to the curve of her shoulder. “I’ve never had a view quite like it,” she murmured.

“House Trevelyan is not such a minor family, Inquisitor,” Josephine uttered somewhat incredulously, craning her neck around but failing to actually catch the other woman’s eye.

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Trevelyan laughed. “But the youngest of the line isn’t exactly treated to quite such an elegant suite. We are strongly encouraged to enter into a pious chantry life, after all.

“But,” she added after the briefest pause, the sleep-loosened strands of Josephine’s long braid tickling her nose as she leaned in to kiss her neck, “I was referring as much to the view directly below me as I was to the one in front of me.”

Catching her meaning, Josephine shivered. “You _tease_.”

“Mm, but you’re so peaceful in your sleep. With your hair down, and - ” Trevelyan cut herself off, then shifted her arm around Josephine’s middle, trying to draw their bodies that much closer together. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve seen,” she finally murmured into Josephine’s ear. “ _You’re_ the most beautiful thing I’ve seen.”

“Flatterer,” Josephine muttered, in a tone that very much reminded Trevelyan of Cassandra, but with an attitude that very much did not. She laughed, and Josephine squeaked as teeth closed over the line of muscle at her shoulder and the blanket began to fall.

Catching the edges of it up again, Josephine uttered another world-weary sigh, ignoring the way Trevelyan’s fingertips pinched at the flesh of her hip. “You need more rugs,” she declared in the most professional tone she could muster. “And who left all this lumber up here? Why haven’t you asked to have it removed?”

Trevelyan chuckled. “I thought there were more important things to do. They’ve already done quite enough to the rest of the room.”

Obviously, Josephine had expected a bantering reply. At the much more practical response she shifted, and Trevelyan gave her just enough space to turn around. It forced the Inquisitor to catch the blanket up again, but she didn’t mind; Josephine’s pale eyes darted across her face, the very edges of her mouth turned up into a vague, satisfied smile.

“I’m sure I have said this before, but you are not what I expected, Lady Trevelyan.”

“And you, Lady Montilyet, are more perfect than I could have dreamed.”

“Inquisitor, you are smitten,” Josephine uttered with a cluck of disapproval, pushing her lips into a pout.

An irresistible, delicious pout.

Trevelyan took this as an invitation for a kiss, and Josephine’s response did nothing to disprove the assumption. “I am,” she murmured, drawing away with Josephine’s lower lip caught gently between her teeth. “But so are you.”

Josephine grinned. First a little, then a lot. “You are not incorrect.”

She was grinning stupidly back, wasn’t she? Trevelyan twisted her fingers into Josephine’s nightclothes, allowing one side of the blanket to fall.

“I love you,” added Josephine after a moment, laying a hand gently over Trevelyan’s. “So much.”

Trevelyan flashed an even broader grin for a moment, and then it diminished just as quickly. She leaned forward instead, tilting her head to press a kiss just below Josephine’s jaw. “I love you too, Josie.”


End file.
